


Eden

by RavenAurelieChoiseau



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Come Eating, Come Sharing, Come Swallowing, Cute, Deepthroating, Dorks in Love, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Human Stiles Stilinski, Kissing, Love, M/M, Mates, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Naked Peter Hale, Naked Stiles Stilinski, One True Pairing, Oral Sex, Peter Hale is a Softie, Peter Hale is gone for Stiles, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Rough Oral Sex, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Sneaking Around, Stiles is a sweetheart, Summer, Summer Heat, Sunbathing naked, Sweat, Sweet Talking, Talking, True Mates, sun cream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:34:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24645736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenAurelieChoiseau/pseuds/RavenAurelieChoiseau
Summary: A great blue sky is curdled over with white fleecy clouds; their streaks are shut in the heated air. A few of them, smaller and fluffier than the rest, are burdened with radiance.They couldn’t compete, though, with the glitter of Peter’s gaze as he studies Stiles. He’s intoxicated by his mate, between the scent of his aftershave and the way he moves his mouth- still swollen from their kisses.Jesus, it’s driving him insane, this nearness.:::::::::One lazy summer afternoon. Two lovers who are still living their passion in secret.For a few hours, Peter and Stiles create a little paradise for themselves... their own tiny slice of Eden.
Relationships: Peter Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, steter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 171





	Eden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asarcasticwitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asarcasticwitch/gifts).



> As I continue to edit new updates enjoy this little fluffy summer nugget. It's a rewrite and relocation as I like to call it. Much more suited to Steter.  
> I'm dedicating this to a reader who's always extremely sweet in commenting on my works and has recently ventured off to read a story of mine outside the fandom- on blind faith- which meant the absolute world to me. Thanks darlin'. 🖤

It’s sweltering. One of those days where even thought beckons sweat and people dream of consuming popsicles and iced tea while huddled under gazebos and beach umbrellas.  
A great blue sky is curdled over with white fleecy clouds; their streaks are shut in the heated air. A few of them, smaller and fluffier than the rest, are burdened with radiance.  
They couldn’t compete, though, with the glitter of Peter’s gaze as he studies his Stiles. He’s intoxicated by his mate, between the scent of his aftershave and the way he moves his mouth- still swollen from their kisses.  
Jesus, it’s driving him insane, this nearness.  
  
“I learned to say I love you in Polish today.” Stiles’ lengthy pinky caresses the top of Peter’s while his other hand rests curled in the space between his eyebrows.  
He can sense Peter’s roving eyes on him, drinking him in… they rake over every inch of his flesh. It’s making his bare skin sing in want and his cock twitch.  
It doesn’t matter that they’re both naked on Peter’s secluded rooftop terrace… no one for miles. Stiles has a sneaking suspicion that the electricity in the air, crackling between them like radio static, would spark a fire regardless of who might be spying on them.  
  
On second thought, maybe Peter would like that… the thrill of getting caught while doing something dirty?  
  
In a way, all of this is forbidden. No one knows about their relationship yet. No one knows they're mated. The sneaking around… the skulking about and scheming to meet in places where none of their mutuals might be… exhilarating. It's been three months of clandestine rendezvous, (sexual and romantic).   
  
Stiles turns his head slightly, perspiration having slicked down some of his bangs into a hazelnut sweep of hair across his forehead. There’s enough angle so that his deep umber eyes are squinting against the afternoon sun, but from this perspective he can still look Peter straight into his baby blues.  
  
The wolf grins, more sunshine in his adoring face than what’s shining down on them from above.  
“I want to learn to say I love you in as many languages as I can so you never get tired of hearing me say it,” Stiles explains. His heart flutters in his ribcage. He's absolutely gone for this man. 

God, in his own right Peter didn’t think he could ever love this much. “Say it to me, Stiles,” Peter begs. From under half-closed lids he can still perceive the burn of the rays above. It’s spread everywhere, like a slow fire roasting his yearning body.

Stiles inhales, his bare chest rising and falling lazily. He lets his head drop to the left, licking the salt from his upper lip.  
“Ja cię kocham, Peter.” 

Peter’s aching for him. The sweet jab of desire makes his calloused fingertip trace a line down his treasure trail, avoiding, however, the semi-erect shaft resting uneasily against his stomach.  
He’s slick with beading sweat.

“That’s so strange, but beautiful. Even more beautiful because it’s rolling off _your_ tongue.” Peter shifts on his towel, so he’s just two palms from his lover. “Let me try. Ja cię kocham, Stiles. Did I get it right?”

Stiles smiles with a satisfied wink following. He adds another digit to their little finger latticework and Peter sighs.  
“Perfect, baby. Perfect. I like to hear you speak Polish.” The -sh on the end floats there above his pouty lips like a hummingbird.

This is their stolen time. Their sinful, special time.  
Their Eden.  
  
The late June sky is kissing Stiles’ flesh amber. The melatonin emanates from his pores, tickling his nose hairs, as a single bead of perspiration glides from his forehead, meeting its death on his jaw.  
Peter licks his mouth with a papery tongue, hand moving to his belly button, hovering on his searing tummy. Two toughened fingertips accidentally graze the tip of his swollen cock, the unexpected touch sending a shiver through him. 

He draws in a sharp breath with an “uh.” Stiles’ eyebrows arch, blood pulsing.

“We needed this. A day of doing nothing.” Peter ponders, the temptation to grip his aching shaft suddenly overwhelming. The fingers linger there on the sensitive extremity. “It was all I wanted. To be alone with you, Stiles. The fact that we’re naked _and_ alone, a plus.”

They exchange soft chuckles. “It’s perfect. Your wish,” SHHH the hummingbird beats his wings again and the sound travels to tickle Peter’s ears, “was my command.” With a couple white lies and some creative scheduling, Stiles was able to carve out an entire afternoon for them.  
“Stiles?”  
“Yes baby?”  
“Can you put cream on me? I’m afraid I’m going to burn.”

Peter could do it. The package is right there. But he wants Stiles’ hands on him. He wants to feel that tingle as Stiles drags his splayed fingers over his taut muscles.   
The human nods.  
“Jesus, it’s so hot today. Don’t want you to freckle completely over… even though I love your freckles. I think I’m gonna put some on, too. Just in case.”

Peter stays Stiles' firm hand, grabbing the tube resting between them. The plastic is scalding.  
  
“Let’s do each other,” Peter suggests, lust straining grit into his voice.  
  
Raising themselves to one elbow, Stiles’ face is a golden brown, flawless like an Egyptian god’s, and it takes Peter’s breath away. Peter’s, instead, is flushed slightly pink over the chisel on his cheeks. His summer freckles dot his nose and lightly sprinkle his face.  
Stiles is overcome by the urge to kiss every single one. His elevator gaze stops a moment on Peter’s delicious shoulder, dusted with more tiny specks, and then finally resting on his needy member. It twitches a bit under his scrutiny, tip glistening under the blinding light.

“So where do we start?” Stiles smirks. There’s a pop, and a squish, and memory makes them think of lube. Peter saves the comment because he can see they’re both thinking it.  
Two palms lather in warm SPF 30.

Shyly, almost like they have never done this for one another before, (but they have, many, many times), arms cross and hands grasp feverish sex.  
“Fuck,” Peter exclaims and Stiles immediately hisses, the sudden relief to the dull throbbing from within their bellies utterly heavenly.

Peter rests his head on his hand, and Stiles mimics. They face each other, the cream pleasantly silky. It gets soaked up almost immediately by thirsty flesh.  
“This is nice,” Stiles whispers.  
Eyes that remind his wolf lover of the Nevada desert lovingly keep his gaze, Peter resting just a bit of crimson tongue on his parched lower lip.  
“This is perfect, Stiles. Just perfect. _You’re_ perfect.”  
  
Bringing their hungry mouths within the same breathing space, Peter begs of him “Keep looking at me, Stiles. Please. I just love seeing you in ecstasy.”

The human’s long lashes flutter as Peter’s grip on his cock intensifies. He responds by twisting Peter’s at the base just like he likes it.  
One languid tug follows another.  
Slow.  
Measured.  
There’s no need to rush.

Stiles’s ruby mouth hangs open, a thread of saliva caught between the upper and lower lips. Peter nearly lunges to dab the tip of his muscle on it, but he stops himself.  
  
“Peter,” Stiles whimpers, his features contorting. “Peter please…”  
Breath quickening, the slap of skin replaces that of the hummingbird wings. These men couldn’t drag their eyes away from each other if they tried.

“Stiles, oh god…faster please...” Peter groans, followed by successive “ugh ugh ugh”s in time to Stiles’s short, powerful jerks. The Alpha’s mauve glans shimmers when his foreskin unfurls on the downstroke.

Stiles is lamenting under his ragged breath, his hooded gaze ALL desire. His lover thumbs his slit, the pumping gauged just right to knead his cock when he reaches its crown. Peter searches his upturned face for signs of delectation.  
  
“Like this?”

“Yes, Peter, oh god… Peter…more…”

The air is sizzling and somewhere bees buzz. The sounds of summer accompany the whimpers from the two men baking on the blanket. They move in time now, not consciously aware they’re doing it but only following the infinitesimal tightening and relaxing of the other’s body.  
It’s an exercise in perception, and they both adjust to the pleasure received. More pressure here… cupping and pulling there.

“I’m close, Peter,” Stiles huffs, a little disjointed in his ministrations. He’s nipping into his lower lip, teeth catching on chapped skin.

“Stay with me, Stiles, I’m so close, too. Stay with me, baby. Let’s come together.”

They lean in, arid lips meeting. Tongues hungry for moisture invade the other’s cavity, pressing, brushing, sucking.  
Teeth clash.  
“Mmm…mmm” they moan in unison.   
Is the hummingbird back? Is he vibrating in their chests as the last of their inhibition fades into the background?

Peter counts it down in his head, how many more times Stiles will need to catch his palm on his pubes… Jesus the compression is just right and he can see the brightest of sunrises expanding behind his lids.  
“Baby…”  
The dappled sunlight plays across Stiles’ face when his azure gaze finds focus once more. “I’m…”  
  
“Oh shit…” The longing’s suddenly assuaged and Peter breaks in Stiles’ grasp, something akin to a cry escaping into his lover’s mouth as he pumps out a watery rosary of unholy secretions.  
The come sprays their torsos and stains the pale green blanket below.  
  
“Stiles, oh fuck…” Peter pants, limbs quivering. “I’m sorry… I wanted to wait… “  
Stiles watches him unravel, enjoying every brief muscle twitch. Then he gathers some thick cum milked out onto his thigh with an outstretched finger.  
The rest of the drops form a creamy white puddle on the fabric.  
  
When he’s done sucking his digits clean under the watchful eyes of his wolf, (who’s staring at him in wide-eyed interest)… he purposely leaves just a hint to coat on his lower lip, offering a sampling of his mouth and Alpha seed to its owner.  
  
If this is what gets you kicked out of Eden… sign them up.   
  
Making the most animalistic sounds he’s ever heard a human make as he sucks on his tongue, Peter hasn’t forgotten that Stiles has yet to be pleasured. Because as soon as they pull off, Peter returning to his dutiful attentions, he can’t help himself. He engulfs Stiles’ sex in his warmth and the brunette grunts loudly. 

It's overwhelming! He drives his cock so deep into his throat, Peter’s almost jarred by the stab. Sounds of smacking- the delicious warmth- there’s no way he can hold back.  
“Peter…”  
Stiles’ release, a thicker but less copious spill of it respect to his Alpha’s, splashes the back of the Peter's throat, who lets out a low growl when he makes it disappear.  
“Peter!” Stiles stills again, fingers pushing Peter’s face into his groin, not meaning to be so aggressive but the tight pressure from his lips has literally made him forget himself.  
  
Peter gags, gurgles a bit... and that's when Stiles realizes he might need to come up for air. Popping off with a gasp, Peter sits back, propped by his hands in support. He savors the taste of him, Christ was that hot!  
Stiles drops onto his arm, lungs filling in a stuttering pattern of breaths.  
Swirling his saliva with some come he left on his tongue from the second orgasm, Peter shows him. Shows him how he drinks of him.  
  
Stiles’ beautiful face, relaxed in its bliss, is positively glowing. Seeing him wrecked like this... his cum in his Alpha's mouth... Jesus Christ. 

“Peter…” Stiles sighs as he leans in and swipes his muscle there, tasting himself. “What a rush…”   
SHHHH   
The hummingbird is back.  
  
Grabbing his chin to bring him in for another more exploratory kiss, Stiles says it again, for emphasis this time. “ _Peter, Ja cię kocham_.”

The wolf, panting, angles his head. Their lips mesh perfectly. It's the meeting of two halves.   
  
He couldn’t ask for more. He needs nothing else.  
Kissing the tip of Stiles’ button nose, he returns the sentiment. “Ja cię kocham, Stiles.”

Stiles caresses Peter’s forearm with the gentlest of touches. It's as if that urgency from just moments earlier dissipated completely into sweetness.   
  
“So what language is tomorrow, baby?” Peter wonders, letting his shoulders drop back down to the blanket. He's still a bit out of breath.   
  
“Gaelic, in honor of your heritage.”

Peter grins, his hair a crazy nest on his head, gorgeous eyes that put this summer’s sky to shame crinkling at their corners. “You are so, so sweet, my only one.” 

The men lie together, hands entwined, right as they were minutes before. The same, only just a little lighter… and perhaps a lot more in love.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! As always please feel free to check out my dash for other fun TW stories. Kudos and comments are very welcome and I generally reply to all comments in a reasonable amount of time, engaging with my readers is extremely important to me.  
> Stay safe and happy everyone!


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